


The Reason Viktor Nikiforov Never Stood A Chance

by Bauliya



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bottom! Victor, Harry Potter AU, M/M, Magical Realism, Multi, kinkmeme fills, sexy Yuuri, siren! Yuuri, sorta - Freeform, veela! yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 20:48:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10998714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bauliya/pseuds/Bauliya
Summary: Based on this prompt from yoikinkmeme:Yuuri is part-Veela and just doesn't know it. His pole-dancing at the banquet and the video of Yuuri performing Victor's was so seductive to Victor that Victor just picked up everything and left to be his coach. So, canon-compliant for the most part, with Yuuri's Veela heritage making some crucial differences.





	The Reason Viktor Nikiforov Never Stood A Chance

To be honest, even Viktor doesn’t remember the banquet that well, it’s a fog of laughter and the smell of champagne and Yuuri the torch shining through the mist. 

He’d heard of him before, of Yuuri Katsuki, always followed by vague compliments but the thing, the _thing_ about skaters praising other skaters was that the comments tended to be _specific_. “His triple axel was gorgeous,” “Her choreography fit the music so well,” “That Ina Bauer, my god.” 

 

But with Yuuri Katsuki, it was, forever and only, _I could not look away._

He remembers thinking that his body makes music, tracing high C’s in the stretched tendons of his neck, drum beats in the twists of his ankles, being unable to stop himself from joining in and feeling high when Yuuri changed his steps to match his, when he switched to a dance of two. 

He remembers taking it all back, deciding his movements were not music but _sex_ and his voice, _oh god his voice_ when he demanded that he be his coach if he won the dance off. He doesn’t remember his response, or if he responded, but what he remembers is thinking in that moment, with Yuuri Katsuki gyrating against him, _anything for you, anything at all._

Seeing the video was so much worse. Or better. Viktor felt taken, seeing Yuuri moved to the steps he’d done, he’d made, and somehow changing them so completely that he barely recognised them. His routines were performed by many, or at least bits of them, be they fans or other skaters, and they filled him with a fleeting sense of almost paternal pride. 

Yuuri’s, though.

Yuuri’s.

It wasn’t an ode, it wasn’t an interpretation, it wasn’t even seduction, though it came quite close. It was a demand. For his attention, for him and Viktor caved. He was still watching it when he was thousands of feet in the air, somewhere between Russia and Japan.

* * *

“He was a _heartbreaker!_ ” 

“Phichit!” Yuuri protests, blushing, and tries to hide his face in his shoulders. 

“You were, though. You totally were, oh my god. And the worst part was, get this—” 

“He didn’t even realise it?” Viktor says, smiling, finishing his drink. 

“ _Viktor._ ”

They’re getting married, and Phichit and Chris showed up early, stating best-men-privilege. Honestly, he’s grateful because he’s gotten tired of reading up on the symbolic value of violets and tulips and deciding which of them reflect their relationship better when the correct answer was obviously figure skates and dog fur. 

“Nope, not a clue. It happened every year, without fail. He showed up at some party, went home with a dozen numbers scrawled all over his body and just. Never called back. _And then he complained about being single!_. Also, do not get me started on pole dancing classes,” 

“Minami lives two hours away, he’ll be delighted to be my best man, Phichit.” 

“I don’t mind sharing,” Chris says, deeply interested, “What about pole dancing classes?” 

“We-ell,” Phichit says, “So. First day. We both show up, right? And the class is full of these gorgeous, gorgeous men. Yuuri nearly bolts when he sees them but I hold him back, because I’m nice like that. Anyway, he fumbles for a bit but by the third class, everyone’s just _gawking_ at him, clearly interested and is it turns out, our Yuuri has a bit of a crush on this tattooed hottie called Rithvik,” 

“Please don’t.” 

“So I,” He says, “Being the awesome wingman I am, shove him towards him. It’s a little awkward at first but then they begin to talk, and they’re smiling, and I’m like, yay, but then. He takes his phone. And,” Phichit looks at Viktor, “The background image is you.” 

Yuuri burrows further. 

“Wow.” 

“Yeah. Poor guy just goes, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you had a boyfriend,’ and Yuuri never shows his face there again.” 

They laugh, Yuuri threatens to leave a few minutes later. 

“Okay, okay, that’s it! But seriously, Yuuri,” Chris says, “That’s your MO, huh? Pole dancing?” 

He shrugs, “Easier than talking, I guess.” 

More effective too, Viktor thinks. 

The thing is, Viktor knows he’s attractive. And he’s perfectly alright with abusing that. He’ll shamelessly flirt his way into restaurants, out of difficult situations, get discounts, entries. He’s got it down to a formula, knows exactly on whom it will work, and how it will work best. 

Yuuri’s not like that. 

Yuuri doesn’t have to be, people just _agree_ with him. He doesn’t notice it at first, but when he starts to, it’s impossible to ignore. It’s raining and suddenly they’ll be sharing an umbrella that neither of them brought, Yuuri’s wallet will be lying forgotten in the flat and he’ll come back with takeout anyway, strangers willingly switch seats with them if they get bad ones, they stay at a hotel and two days later they have a better room because _oh, the manager is just so sweet_.

Sometimes he looks guilty afterwards.

But never, never does he seem to _try._

* * *

That night, they exit late and tipsy, waving cheery goodnights to their friends though it’s technically morning. “Wait—gotta shut the door,” Viktor says, extricating himself from his fiancé and closing the door carefully. Someone hoots at that, probably Chris. 

There are skilful fingers slipping inside his robe before he can respond. 

“Yurachka,” he says softly and turns his head. Yuuri’s eyes are half-closed, mouth open and red, hair carelessly pushed back. 

“Hm, darling?” Yuuri breathes into his ear and curls his leg around his like a tail, “Have something to say, sweetheart?” Viktor feels like putty. 

“N-no,” He’s blushing hard and his blood rushes down fast enough to leave him dizzy, “Yuuri.” 

He leans up and kisses him. Viktor immediately reciprocates, tongue reaching out for more and lips desperate and sloppy but Yuuri pulls back. He makes a needy noise and Yuuri laughs. He slowly undoes his tie and lets the robe partially fall from his shoulder and tilts his head, “On the bed.” 

 

Viktor nods and almost trips on the carpet. Yuuri’s sauntering around in the room, opening drawers, “Lube, lube..” and Viktor knows, Viktor _knows_ he’s perfectly aware of where they’ve kept it. “Eyes away from me, gorgeous,” Yuuri says, sing-song. 

Viktor grits his teeth and buries his face in the pillow, facing away. 

There’s the hand, again. Resting cool on his nape. Yuuri asks him to turn, and he obeys. They’re looking at each other now, his hair’s partially fallen on his forehead, and he glasses are gone. “Tease,” Viktor accuses, raising his hands and keeping them secure over his head.

And Yuuri blinks. It fades. A blush blooms across his cheeks like a bruise, “I—uh,” He says, looking away, hand fisting over his thighs. 

Viktor’s eyes goes soft, “C’mere,” He says, and pulls him close. Yuuri goes willingly and they kiss, again, this time he’s the one deciding the pace, and he’s deciding to keep it slow. “My beautiful tease,” he says between kisses, taking the lube from his hand and keeping it aside. Yuuri’s hands seek out his body again, and his hips press down on his to rub their cocks together and Viktor hisses like burned. 

“Wrists back in place, Viktor.” 

Later, much later, he’s boneless in Yuuri’s arms with a satisfying ache radiating through his arse and hips. “Do you, um—do you need anything? Water?” Yuuri pets him, so gentle, “I mean, I know you like it a little rough but, um.” 

Viktor turns and hugs him closer, smiling into his neck, “It was perfect.”

* * *

The wedding’s tomorrow, and they’re still sorting out the main hall. Yuuri’s a little doubtful if the water theme had been the right choice, despite how adamant he’d been when he’d picked it. 

Viktor thinks it’s perfect.

“Vicchan! there’s someone waiting for you in the lobby,” Hiroko says, in slow, enunciated Japanese. She goes away with a carton of streamers. 

He’s a little confused until he reaches the place.

The lobby is filled with people rushing about, except one woman in the corner, studying an ornate bow. She’s tall, taller than Viktor, with long silver hair. 

“Tosya!”

“Vitya!” She smiles when she sees him and walks towards him, “It’s been such a long time,” She says and hugs him for a moment before letting go, “congratulations.” 

“I didn’t think you’d make it.” 

“Don’t be silly, it’s your wedding! I got lost on the way, though I admit. Is auntie here yet?” 

 

He nods, “Yes, mummy came yesterday. Are you alone or with family?” 

“Sasha’ll be here in the evening. I packed a suit for him, in case he messes up the outfit too badly,” Tosya laughs, “Anyway, that’s not important. I want to meet the boy who stole your heart.” 

“Yuuri slept in, but he should be out any minute,” Viktor says, “You’ll love him.” 

They decide to have breakfast together, or at least, it’s breakfast for Yuuri. Viktor keeps stealing glances. “So, Yuuri. Meet my cousin, Antonina Petrov. And Antonina, this is Yuuri.” 

She looks faintly amused and a little curious, “Hello.” 

Yuuri’s nervous, “Hello!” 

“I suppose auntie’s already given you the speech. I don’t need to repeat it, do I?” She says, sipping her tea, focusing entirely on him, eyes unblinking. Viktor know how that feels and he feels a little sorry. 

“You don’t. I’ll never do anything to hurt him.” 

She leans in a bit, “That’s not very convincing.” 

Yuuri startles, but then his eyes go hard, “I don’t think you’re the one I need to convince, quite honestly.” 

She smiles wider. Viktor’s attention shifts. “Excellent! Now that’s taken care of, has anyone shown you his childhood photos, yet? He was _adorable_.” 

Tosya and he get along well, but he can still detect the vein of ice between them. He eats and is summoned by Mari to meet some guests. Viktor immediately turns to her, “What was that?”

“I’m sorry for making fun of you.”

Viktor frowns, “What?”

“You know?” She gestures vaguely, “Right after—Sochi? Yes, Sochi. When you were constantly gushing about him. You never really had a chance, cousin dear.” 

It takes a minute. Viktor swallows and his palms get sweaty, “Is there,” His voice goes softer, “Is there something I should know about Yuuri? Something he hasn’t told me?” 

“Oh, Vitenka,” She says, “That boy couldn’t hide a thing from you if he tried, he’s head over heels. But he can’t tell you what he doesn’t know.” 

Tosya props her chin on her knuckles, “I’m going to get you a late wedding present. I think you’ll find it very useful.”

* * *

“Veelas.” 

“Excuse me?”

“Veelas. They’re part of slavic folklore,” Viktor says, looking up. He’d read the page so often that the book now naturally fell open to it, “They’re like sirens, except they use their dance to enchant humans and can turn into vicious harpies when angered.” 

Yuuri settles in beside him, pressing their sides together so he doesn’t fall of. The book’s beautiful, really. Leather bound, and illustrated. He reads the text, “they sound a little like Ningyo,” he murmurs, and then focuses on the illustration.

It’s a woman, with light coloured hair and striking features, swaying her hips and men gathering around her with entranced expressions. Yuuri strokes the drawing, his fingers stopping at the hair of the veela. 

“They sound a little like you.” Yuuri says. 

And Viktor just laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> You can send me prompts on bauliya.tumblr.com. Please comment.


End file.
